Boundaries and Blathering

So, I've been thinking a lot about relationships, lately. Specifically, romantic ones. (Ooooh!)

Seriously, though. I feel as though Shawn and I have finally crossed over that scratchy, irritating line which separates friendship from murderous rage. We no longer feel the urge to bash each other in the face with cast iron frying pans when in each others' presence. This, I think, is a good thing. We're friends now. I feel that finally, something's turned...winter's become spring. There's respect there, and a gentleness with each other that I'm really grateful for. I remember why I liked him for all those years to begin with. And I have to say, a lot of couples can't necessarily say that after their marriage ends. So, good for us.

So this brings me to the question of the next phase of my life. What now?

How do I avoid another soured romance?

How do I keep from crossing that murky border that straddles passionate love and cozy complacency the next time around?

Ooooh, it feels so good to be seen as sexy, inventive, and lovely by someone new. But didn't it also feel so good to be able to lay on the couch with someone, after ten solid years together, and unzip my pants and grab my stomach and go, "Fuck! LOOK at this! I'm disgusting!!!" and have a good laugh together about it?

So. What are appropriate boundaries between couples?

And, how do I learn from the mistakes I made before?

Oh, how awesome the early part of a new relationship can be. You make sacrifices for your lover. You go to a vegan restaurant for her, sit quietly and sip your organic beer without complaint when the waiter brings you suspicious-looking nachos with unchicken and tofu sour cream. She puts her feet, clad only in rubber flipflops, in your lap beneath the table and scoots her seat a little closer so that your bodies can constantly be touching.

Romance is delicious. You infect each other with the desire to be close, to breathe each other in. You get drunk on each other. You can't stop touching. Even in bed, you palm his head or sling an arm over his hip so that you can stay together even when you part in sleep.

So how does this passion, this desire, this hunger, change?

Anyone?

How do you go from getting turned on by the simple sight of your lover's belly button, to ten years later, not really caring if he sees you wipe a booger on the wall behind the bed? (This is, of course, hypothetical. Purely.)

I guess it's only human to crave real intimacy. To feel as comfortable with a person as you do in your favorite old pair of jeans. Right?

So. I'm interested in your opinions here, lovers.

Happy weekend.

Mwah.